Friday, November 30, 2007

So I have this friend. Let's call her "Laroo." Laroo and I have been friends for years. We have shared experiences that have bonded us beyond casual friends. We were pregnant together, complaining about morning sickness and gaining weight. We spent countless hours lamenting over our evil boss and even more evil supervisor. We fought. We exchanged hurtful words, but we always ended up right back where we were. Good friends. From early into our friendship, I could tell she was someone who would always be in my life.

Then we had a silly fight. Really it was stupid. But it made us both act in a way that we never should have. I was hurt and pissed. She was mad, possible embarrassed, but mostly I think she needed to break the tie between us to make a very hard decision. I think had our friendship been in tact, she would not have been happy with the choice her husband and her made to move out of state. She would have been resentful of him. I think it was easier to be mad at me, even over something stupid, than to have to say goodbye and be mad at her husband. I think perhaps that is why that fight got blown so out of proportion. At the time, I didn't get that. At the time, it made me say I would never forgive her.

Eventually, we had to talk again. We both long ago quit working for the evil man, let's call him "Ike," and were doing contract work for my aunt. I needed to confirm her work availibility. It took two emails before we were on the phone, apologizing for our mistakes and catching up on almost a year of missed friendship. However, I was still guarded with her. More and more over time, I found myself calling her to talk. Then I hit a rough day. I was crying, I needed a friend. Out of instict, I called her. Before she even answered, I realized that I had to make sure this friendship lasted. No matter what had happened.

The other thing I realized is that she has changed, a lot. I am not the same person I was a few years ago. It hit me around 25 that I truely needed to grow up. I think Laroo hit that point over this past year. Actaully, over the past few months. Not that she was immature or naive before, but suddenly she had a different outlook on life. She realized what really mattered, what really made a friend, how much her family meant to her. She learned to confront people (sort of!) and how to apologize. Deep down, she still has all of the things that make us good friends, but she also has more.

Recently, her family made the decision to move back home. And I am excited. I can't wait to have her back home. I know we had a big fight, said stupid things, and learned to distrust each other, but we are beyond that now. I am glad to have your friendship. Now, come the hell home!

Monday, November 26, 2007

Last week, I took Jill and her friend to see Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium. I bought two small drinks, two itty bitty popcorns, and two boxes of candy. I spent $937.26. Or damn near that. I wised up before going to see Enchanted this weekend.

"Jill, we are going to stop at CVS and get candy there. You can still get a drink at the movie."

I explained carefully that technically we shouldn't bring outside candy to the theater. I tried to explain the difference between breaking this rule and other rules. Without flat out telling her to conceal the fact that we had the candy (I am not trying to teach her to lie!), I gave her some rules about when she could have the candy.

"Now, if you want the candy, you won't bug me for it before we sit down. You will wait until the movie starts, and I will get it out for you." Perfect. Dark theater, loud movie. No one would notice me sneaking the candy out of my purse. Let's face it, I am slightly scared of breaking rules, so I would be very embarrassed if anyone noticed!

Tickets and drinks in hand, we wait in the long line to enter the theater. We manage to get good seats. Jill happily sits down, gets comfy, and laughs at the previews. So far so good. We made it through the ticket line, past the concession stand, and around no less than seven ushers. No mention of the candy to anyone so far.

The previews come to an end. The beginning credits start. A man and his two children walk in looking for seats. An usher leads them over to seats a few rows behind us, asking a family of four to move over a few seats to make room. Everyone settles into their seats. The usher turns to walk back down. He is on the step behind us when the lights dim. Jill, who moments before was in a stupor staring at the screen, springs up. The movie has started, and that means one thing....

"MOMMY CAN I HAVE THAT CANDY NOW THAT YOU BOUGHT AT CVS AND HID IN YOUR PURSE?!"

Giggles. Loud giggles from everyone around us. The usher stops, glaring at me. I shrink into my seat. Damn.

Saturday, November 24, 2007

I used to have a small tree in my apartment. Considering it is only four feet tall, it would look slightly silly in our living room. It was banished to the gameroom last year. It worked well. The girls were happy to have their own tree. A few weeks ago I just had to paint the gameroom. With a cupcake theme. Pink, green, brown, and white. Suddenly, the blue and silve ornaments would no longer do! Jill is obssessed with all that is pink, and I am obssessed with all that matches. It was time for a little tree redocoration. The perfect solution was a pink candy theme for the tree. Pink lights. Gumdrop garlands. Gingerbread men. Delicious.

Friday, November 23, 2007

I absolutely love the holidays. While everyone is spending this weekend decorating for Christmas, I am sitting back and enjoying the decorations that have been up for over a week now. I just couldn't wait until this weekend. I was ready for eggnog and Christmas music. A little Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Jordan singing 'Baby It's Cold Outside,' the smell of pine needles and cinnamon, twinkling lights. Love it all.

I tried to capture the feel of our home right in pictures, but they just don't do it justice. The space is warm with goldens and browns. It smells like gingerbread and pine. The music is palying throughout our home. The pictures are just dark...not to mentiont he dust that is showing, as Kenny pointed out! But here is my best attempt to show you my decorations. Really, you should just come over. I have eggnog and cookies.

Monday, November 19, 2007

It was finally time for the granite that has been occupying a third of our garage to go. Price didn't matter, as long as someone showed up and hauled it off. Kenny took pictures, placed an ad on craigslist, and we sat back and waiting for the emails to pour in. And oh did they pour in. One woman, let's just call her "Crazy," emailed Kenny first. And emailed. And emailed. And came up with excuse after excuse as to why she missed many meeting times and kept Kenny waiting here for her. Two days later, the granite was still in the garage. Fed up with Crazy, Kenny emails one of the many other people interested in the granite to let him know it was still available. Within an hour, a guy shows up, loads the granite, pays Kenny and finally takes the granite out of our garage. Victory! But oh, then Crazy starts calling. And emailing. Where oh where is her granite?! Kenny simply explained that he had waited for her several times, and she had failed to show up on several occasions. Since he needed the granite out of the garage quickly, he found the next willing person to take it. He told her he was sorry (although, quite frankly, we weren't!), and thought that was the end of it.

Then he gets this email.

Mr Kenny *****,You should have told us that when you accepted our offer, and at least given us the opportunity before you allowed someone else to take it. I'm going to guess the real truth is you managed to get more money, after you accepted our honest offer. This is very Bad karma, and extremely poor business practice.ShameMy oh-so-polite-never-offend-anyone-because-you-never-know-when-you-will-cross-paths-again Kenny responds back with.....FYI: I got less than you offered, it wasn't a money issue. If I wanted to auction it off, I would have put it on ebay.I needed it moved ASAP to get some equipment in my garage, and you did not get here fast enough.As far as my business practices go, I think taking less than someone else offered would be a pretty poor business practice. So you are right, mine suck. Eitherway, granite is not my business so I am not to concerned with that really.Karma!!! Maybe I will check in my local fortune teller to see what my future has in store for me. Karma!

Shame on me.

Sorry if you got your feelings hurt, I think I am going to auction off a box of kleenex on ebay later to wipe the tears. Hurry, if you snooze you lose.I have never loved him more! He makes me so proud.

Friday, November 16, 2007

Santas warned 'ho ho ho' offensive to womenWed Nov 14, 11:04 PM ETSantas in Australia's largest city have been told not to use Father Christmas's traditional "ho ho ho" greeting because it may be offensive to women, it was reported Thursday.Sydney's Santa Clauses have instead been instructed to say "ha ha ha" instead, the Daily Telegraph reported.

Seriously? You have to be kidding me. Anyone who would find Santa saying 'Ho, ho, ho' offensive has some serious issues. Why the hell would you assume that a fat man in a red suit yelling 'ho' is referring to you, unless you are actually a ho. Although, if you are a whore, it is reasonable to assume that Santa does know about your bad behavior. Afterall, he sees you when you are sleeping.....or whatever it is you are doing in your bed. In which case, he probably was referring to you when he yelled 'ho.' Not his fault you made it on the naughty list.

Wednesday, November 14, 2007

There are two groups at the bus stop. The twenty plus school age children, and the six preschoolers. Three girls, three boys. Two of the boys are three. And hysterical. Typically they wear matching superman pajamas and fly around screaming. One of the boys is the child of the woman who is famous for getting drunk and harassing Kenny and I right after we moved to the neighborhood. I like her. She makes me laugh. The other boy is the brother of Jill's good friend, Faith.

This morning, was crazy. As the bus pulls up, one mother realizes that they forgot lunches at home. They live on the end of the street. Another mother is parked at the bus stop, and offers to drive her to her house and back to get the lunches. This sends her first grader into hysterics, because she can not hug her mother goodbye. The younger children are running crazy. No one is really paying attention to them. Surprisingly, Jill is already on the bus, sitting down. She is looking out the window at Emmi and waving. Suddenly, she jumps up and runs to the front of the bus.

"MOOOOMMMMYYY! MOOOOMMMMMY! LOOK!"

Oh no. What has Emmi done now?

"LOOK AT RYAN AND HUNTER!"

Laughter. A whole bus full of laughter. The parents turn in unison. Two butts. Pants around ankles. Two little boys PEEING on the neighbor's house.

Now what I want to know is who the hell told her the president is good and why the hell does she like him? Does she listen to anything I say. I told her to tell her teacher that we don't listen to his bullshit. Okay, so maybe I didn't exactly say that, but I really wanted to.

Friday, November 2, 2007

Dear Lady With Forty Eight Groceries Who Cut in Front of Me in the Fifteen Items or Less Line,

I know it is not your fault that I drove an hour and half to the doctor, valet parked my car (otherwise you hoof it from five blocks away and save two dollars), spent three whole minutes with the doctor, paid $11 damn dollars to get my car back, then drove another 45 minutes to get home and was pretty pissed off before I walked in the store. It is also not yur fault that it took my daughter 3.5 seconds to load 27 lipsticks, 6 eyeliners, and 5 toothbrushes into my cart, and then proceeded to throw herself on the floor when I put it all back. By the time I walked toward the line, I was exhausted and much more pissed off. However, ramming your basket into my three-year-old while racing to beat me to the line was completely uncalled for. True, it probably did not warrant my exclaimation of "Watch it, Bitch," but I was grumpy, and you knocked my kid, like, three feet. Also, when I told you that your actions set "my poor, disabled child back at least a few months," I might have been exaggerating. I also flat out lied when I told you that you caused her implant to malfunction, as it was now blinking. Actually, the batteries were just low. I am very sorry.

I do, however, appreciate your desire to follow grocery store rules, although, etiquette rules seem to have escaped you. It was very kind of you to have the checker ring you up in THREE seperate purchases, so that you did not violate the 15 items or less rule. I also thank you for being the one person on Earth who has hung on to their checkbook and blown off the way too convenient debit card. I too agree that us Americans expect too much instant gratification. And what better way to hold your ground against instant gratification than by taking nine hours to write a check, in which you detail in the memo what exactly you are buying. Also, what a good thing you were recorded your exact purchase in the memo of your third check, because how else would you have know that your forgot breadcrumbs? Although, this did pose quite a dilema. Do you break the fifteen item or less rule or have this one rang up seperately. I appreciate your effort to include the checker in this debate. I am very sorry that she did not give a fuck, and the expression on her face told you so. I know it hurt your feelings to the point of needing to inform the manager. I am so very sorry that your insistance on contacting the manager delayed your ability to locate the breadcrumbs. While I was gracious enough to offer to go get your "fucking breadcrumbs" for you, I do understand that my tone was not quite neccessary. I also appreciate your desire to discuss my behavior with my mother. Although, I am quite sure, she does not give a crap how I behave, as I am no longer her repsonsibility. It so refreshing to see someone take such an interest in my behavior, though. Thank you ever so much.

While we are taking such an interest in other people's behavior, I would like to offer some suggestions to you. The whole "using checks to battle instant gratification thing" earns you points for creativity, but it is, perhaps, not the most logical method. I would suggest cutting out the nineteen tv dinners you are purchasing. Nothing scream instant gratifcation more than a complete meal ready in three minutes. Also, when the checker looks completely mortified and irritated at your three check out process, it might be because she knows that she will now have to deal with the next fourteen people in line who are pissed because they stood in line behind you. Please have patience with her and be thankful that she has not beaten you, yet. Also, while completely impressive, your mad dash sprint across the store to race me to the checkout line, does not constitute excercise. If you would like, I can offer some suggestions for excercise that do not include mauling three year olds in line 1. As for your suggestion to speak to my mother about my behavior, I suggest you give me your mother's phone number. Before I call, does your mother get offended by the word "fuck?"

Again, it was wonderful meeting you. No really, when I screamed that as you walked off, I was not being sarcastic. No way. Completeley serious. I truely enjoy spending thirty minutes in the checkout line for four items.